FOOD

FOOD; Lend Me an Ear

By Jason Epstein

Published: August 11, 2002

Tom Falkowski's vegetable stand in the Bridgehampton hinterland, opposite the horse farms on Scuttlehole Road, sits atop a ridge that marks the southernmost advance of the great glacier that covered much of the North American continent until the wall of ice made its slow retreat as world temperatures rose some 20,000 years ago. This gentle ridge, called by geologists a terminal moraine, lifts Scuttlehole Road above the rich farmland that slopes southward to the sea. Part of a 100-mile spine marking the glacier's terminal extension, the ridge runs from Brooklyn to Amagansett at the far end of Long Island's South Fork and enters the sea where it may once have formed a third fork, long since eroded. This glacier, aided in its progress by the broad river valley that would later become Long Island Sound, shaped the hundred-mile sandbar known as Long Island.

Gathering in its passage vast quantities of rock, soil and vegetation as it pushed southward, the glacier, like a retreating bulldozer, left in its wake quantities of debris that eventually formed the rich and spongy topsoil of eastern Long Island's south shore, called an outwash plain. Here and there, where the farm fields meet the beach, the eroding borders of topsoil reveal layers of fertile earth, like rich chocolate cake encased in an icing of white sand.

It was this lush topsoil and the bountiful seas and bays, so like the fields and waters of their native Kent, that attracted English settlers to the South Fork more than three centuries ago. And it has kept a few of these families on their ancestral land to this day, deaf, more or less, to the appeals of real-estate developers. The Falkowskis probably belong to a later immigration from Eastern Europe, one that arrived after World War I, by which time the railroad from New York City had reached Bridgehampton and would soon extend all the way to Montauk at the extreme east end of the island.

By the early 1920's, word of eastern Long Island's rich soil, along with the news that the railroad now linked this farmland to world markets, spread to the potato farmers of Eastern Europe. Many soon settled on Long Island and transformed what had been small-scale vegetable farming into the industrial production of potatoes. Potato fields may still be seen here and there in the backcountry of eastern Long Island's villages, interspersed amid shallow-rooted, multimillion-dollar subdivisions. But most of the remaining arable land of the rich outwash plain is now devoted to vineyards, fruit orchards, tree farming and vegetable production for the many local farm stands whose abundant varieties of tomatoes, peppers, melons, lettuces, peaches and berries offer intense joy throughout the summer, to say nothing of the apples and squashes of September and October.

The villages that compose the towns of Southampton and East Hampton are famous for their corn, but in fact, the farmers in the area grow the same kinds of hybrid corn everyone else does, including inedible ornamental varieties (Indian corn) for Thanksgiving. If anything accounts for the corn's special quality, it may be the glacial topsoil. But more likely it's just that the modern hybrids are designed for sweetness -- and taste even better when enhanced by the sea air and the incredible light. All that is required for a summer feast is to toss a dozen shucked ears into boiling water. But with a little more effort, the same ears can achieve transcendence. Try, for example, rubbing an ear of boiled or roasted corn with half a lime, or perhaps add a trace of paprika or cumin or both.

At times in the markets of Venice, Verona and Arles I have longed to buy the plump octopus and tiny crabs, the peaches and plums, the broad beans and squashes, the blue-legged hens and well-fed geese so seductively posed there and then be transported to my own Sag Harbor kitchen. Failing that, I have wished to curtail my travels so as to be home amid the equally attractive produce of Long Island's South Fork. From the market at Arles I would return to my lodgings yearning for Iacono Farm on East Hampton's Long Lane or the Green Thumb in Water Mill, the first and still among the best of the local farm stands, or the fish, much of it local, at the Seafood Shop in Wainscott, the East Hampton village named by Kentish settlers for a village they left behind.

This summer I prepared for a brief vacation in Italy by satisfying my culinary longings in advance with a dinner for eight prepared from local produce, including tomatoes, corn, chicken and blueberries. We had spent the afternoon on Bob Towbin's fast sailboat, Sumurun, which passed Cedar Point and roared through Plum Gut into the Sound before we noticed that we were well on the way to Connecticut. We did not get back to Sag Harbor until after 6. This left two hours to bake the blueberry pie, butterfly and grill the chickens, grate the cheese, shuck the corn, make the salad, cut the flowers and set the table. But thanks to Adela Garcia, who arrived to help just as I had begun to lose hope, everything -- including two dozen clams casino and a pot of guacamole -- was ready and in place by the time the first guests arrived (though the kitchen was dense with smoke from oil I had carelessly spilled on the grill). We started with ripe tomatoes in good olive oil with sweet onion on a bed of arugula. The main course was one-and-a-half-pound chickens from Iacono's farm, butterflied and grilled in the Italian style, al mattone, which means under a brick, though this need not be taken literally. I grill them under stockpots filled with water. The chickens were accompanied by roasted corn in the Mexican street-food style, brushed with sour cream and rolled in grated cotija, a kind of Mexican feta but sharper and with a milkier overtone. An alternative would have been corn scraped from the cob on a device that also punctures the kernels, then stewed briefly in butter with finely chopped onion, jalapeño, cilantro, sea salt and freshly ground pepper. Dessert was blueberry pie with supermarket vanilla ice cream. There was no time for homemade.

Corn Con Cotija

(Courtesy of Martine Garcia)

6 ears of fresh, ripe sweet corn (corn should be eaten on the day it is picked)

1 cup Mexican sour cream or more to taste

4 ounces cotija grated on the fine side of a 4-sided grater (about 1 1/2 cups) or more to taste.

1. The corn may be boiled, in which case remove the husks, place corn in a pot of rapidly boiling water and remove to a warm platter after 5 minutes. Then cover with a towel. Or it may be roasted, in which case remove the outer husk, brush the ears with cooking oil and place them beneath a preheated broiler and broil 3 inches from the heat source, turning from time to time, until the kernels begin to brown, about 15 minutes in all.

2. When corn is cool enough to be handled, spread it with sour cream, then roll in grated cotija.

Yield: 6 servings.

NOTE: Supermarket sour cream may be substituted for the Mexican variety, but the cotija, available in many Latin food stores, is essential.

Creamless

Creamed Corn

8 ears of fresh, ripe, sweet corn

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil or 1 tablespoon butter

1 jalapeño pepper, seeded and chopped fine

1/2 sweet onion, chopped fine

1/2 red bell pepper, finely diced

1 small bunch cilantro, chopped medium fine

Coarse sea salt and freshly ground pepper to taste.

1. With a device called the Lee's Corn Cutter (Lee Manufacturing Company, Dallas, or at Bridge Kitchenware, 214 East 52nd St., www.bridgekitchenware.com, 212-688-4220), remove the guard, place each ear of corn horizontally over a bowl and scrape the kernels. Set aside.

2. Place the oil or melt the butter in a small sauté pan and sweat the jalapeño, onion and bell pepper. Add the corn and its milk. When about half the milk has boiled away, add the cilantro, salt and pepper and set aside until ready to serve.

Yield: 6 servings.

NOTE: Instead of using raw kernels, the corn can be roasted as in the Corn Con Cotija recipe and then cut from the cobs. Add it to the sweated vegetables and proceed as in Step 2.

Chickens Under a Brick

These take only 12 or 15 minutes to prepare and can be held in a 50-degree oven for an hour or so. Therefore it is most convenient to grill them two at a time.

6 chickens, 3 to 4 weeks old, weighing about 1 1/2 to 2 pounds each

1/2 cup vegetable oil

Coarse sea salt and freshly ground pepper to taste.

1. Rinse chickens inside and out and pat dry with paper towels. Butterfly the chickens by removing the spine, flattening the birds with your hand and removing the breast bone with a small sharp knife or your fingers. Then firmly but gently pound them flat with the side of a cleaver or a small iron skillet. Remove and discard the wing tips and fold the wings back. Tuck the legs into the skin surrounding the vent by making neat slits at the point where the leg end can easily be inserted.

2. Heat a stove-top grill large enough to cover two burners and brush the chickens very lightly with oil. Add salt and pepper. When the grill is hot, reduce the flame to medium and lay the chickens skin side down on the grill above each burner. Move the chickens gently with tongs until they begin to sear, to be sure they don't stick to the grill. Cover each with a heavy, flat-bottomed object large enough to cover the entire chicken. You can use 8-quart stockpots or their equivalent filled with water, 10- or 12-inch cast-iron skillets or flat bricks (covered with foil).

3. In about 5 or 6 minutes the chicken will begin to brown. If not, raise the flame. If the chickens have begun to burn, turn them over, replace the weights and reduce the flame. At this stage you will be making your own decision based on empirical data. The result should be a rich mahogany finish and an intense chicken flavor.

Yield: 6 servings.

NOTE: According to Sal Iacono, who has been raising chickens by traditional methods since 1948 at his Long Lane farm in East Hampton, long before the term free range was invented, the difference between his 3- to 4-week-old, pound-and-a-half-to-two-pound chickens and poussins, squab chickens and Cornish game hens, assuming they are all raised in open pens and fed pure grain, free of hormones, antibiotics and pesticides, is price. He charges the same price no matter what kind of chicken the customer asks for.

Photo: Local corn, whether roasted or boiled, acquires a Mexican accent when served with cotija. (Formula Z/S; platter: the prop company Maxine Kaplan Associates)